


Voices

by junipersand



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, badlands is dead, except for bad, kinda ironic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junipersand/pseuds/junipersand
Summary: Come back to us, Sam begged.We can finally be together, Ant breathed.We miss you, Bad, Skeppy wisped.Bad smiled as his tense body relaxed.I missed you, too.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 193





	Voices

**Author's Note:**

> Bad remained alone in a room that was the tomb for his family, and his to-be coffin.
> 
> He’d never felt so cold.
> 
> How long has it been?
> 
> Days?
> 
> Weeks?
> 
> Months, perhaps?
> 
> He didn’t know.
> 
> How long has it been since he heard a living person’s voice?
> 
> He didn’t know.
> 
> How many times has he desired death?
> 
> He didn’t know.
> 
> When was the last time he saw his friends?
> 
> The day Badlands fell.

Bad was alone in the cell, surrounded by a noxious air of death.

For a long time, he didn’t raise his head. With his arms chained above him, his body hung motionless, legs dangling in air without a floor to stand. Head hung and shut eyes – he could be easily mistaken as dead, if not for the shallow breaths that were comparable to a dying man.

In a room full of death, the small candle of life would soon be snuffed out.

His throat was scratchy and dry. He could feel the walls of his severely dehydrated throat graze each other as he let the slightest bit of breath out his cracked lips. Even with the slightest movement, the stiff skin on his lips would crack like porcelain, and darkened blood would drip down his chin. Not even his blood looked red anymore – it was a disgusting obsidian black, like a poison from the worst pits of hell.

The coagulated blood, with a consistency of thickened slime, dripped down his chin, and onto the pile of dried blood beneath him. By the solidified mound of blood was a skeletal hand, still clenching onto the handle of a shattered diamond sword.

From afar, he heard voices. The voices were like honey, caressing his soul as they graced his name with a gentle, loving tone. The voices of the ones that used to stand by his side, now beckoning him once more, pleading him to join them as a whole.

The debris from his eyes fell to the ground as he opened them, revealing bloodshot eyes.

 _Bad_ , a familiar voice called to him.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

 _We miss you_ , they said.

A stream of blood streamed down his cheeks instead of tears.

 _Let’s go_ , they pleaded, _to a better place_.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He tasted his own blood, bitter and poison.

The voices stopped, but the ones outside haven’t.

In only moments, his world of silence was suddenly broken by the shrieking wail of rusting iron. His eyes opened to a trace of fire that burned on a measly torch, but he closed his eyes, as it was far too bright for him to look. The voices were here, but they were unfamiliar; they called out to each other, and not his name.

“This is where they all went…” gasped a man. “No wonder they were gone for so long.”

Another man held up the torch to Bad’s face. He whimpered at the sudden warmth, hotter than the surface of the sun. The warmth disappeared abruptly, leaving a numbing tingle on his cheek.

“He’s still alive!” he cried, horrified. “Oh my fucking god, he’s still _breathing_.”

The first man spluttered in surprise. “Well, get him down then!”

Bad’s ears ached from all the noise. Shivering, he exhaled sharply as the chains above him suddenly loosened, his arms no longer pulling from the rest of his body. The pressure that tormented in for an endless amount of time had disappeared in one swift slice.

He felt his body fall forwards, the tip of his feet grazing the stone floor, but he did not land on bloody brick. A pair of strong, firm arms caught his descent, supporting his visibly lessened weight.

“Can you hear me, BBH?” asked his savior.

Bad did not respond, as he could not. His mind was a dark fog, pulling his conscious down to a pit where he would never return, but somehow, he felt lighter. He felt as if the weights dragging him down were finally cut, and his soul was set free.

The voices were back.

 _Come back to us_ , Sam begged.

 _We can finally be together_ , Ant breathed.

 _We miss you, Bad_ , Skeppy wisped.

Bad smiled as his tense body relaxed.

_“I missed you, too.”_

In the final parts of his consciousness, the unnamed man propped him on his back, screamed at his friend, and ran. The man’s back was warm; warmer than the fires he would share with his friends.

Bad slept to the gush of wind and crisp air.

He woke to an endless room with nothing but black. Bad looked around, but no one was here. His body was anew, his mind fresh.

Then he heard someone call his name, as clear as day.

Skeppy stood across him, arms spread, tears pooling in his eyes.

 _Welcome home, Bad_.

Bad’s eyes widened. With shaking legs, he got to his feet, and ran towards his friend. He threw himself into Skeppy’s waiting embrace, feeling his warm, moving body under his touch; the soft, woolen sweater that provided nothing but comfort.

He cried as soon as Skeppy wrapped his arms around him. They were warm—so very warm. Warmer than the summers they’ve been through. Warmer than the cocoa they drank by the fireplace. He buried his head into his friend’s chest, letting Skeppy run his hands through his hair, comforting him.

 _You’ve been through a lot, Bad_. Skeppy helped Bad to his feet, beaming brighter than the sun. _But you’re here now_. Taking Bad’s hand, he turned to the end of the room, an exit suddenly revealed. He raised his hand, beckoning two familiar figures at the light.

Ant and Sam waved back, both smiling at Bad.

 _We can be a family again_ , Skeppy promised. He turned to Bad, smiling contently.

Bad met his eyes—a deep shade of azure, like the prettiest of oceans and the brightest of sapphires. They reflected his own reflection, one of content and relief.

 _Yes_ , he said, voice cracking. _We can_.

Skeppy laughed and pulled him towards the exit, where the light poured in. Bad felt himself laughing along, his face breaking into a smile, his legs parting as he followed his friend—

He tripped instead, forcing Skeppy to release him.

When he got up, the light was fading. He looked up abruptly, alarmed to see Skeppy already on the other side, his face contorted to confusion, his palm still open.

 _Bad?_ he asked.

Bad scrambled to his feet, but his arms were glued to the ground. He grunted, desperately trying to detach himself. The exit was growing farther, and so were his friends’ faces.

 _Bad, where are you going?_ Ant asked.

 _I’m not going anywhere_ , Bad replied, but his shouts came out like a whisper.

 _Bad, don’t leave us again_ , Sam echoed.

 _I won’t_ , Bad said, but this time, no voice came out.

He could only look as his friends grew further, further, further; until there was only a small speckle of light. Bad watched Skeppy’s expression grow distraught as he took his hand back, choking out:

_Why won’t you come, Bad?_

The light disappeared.

Bad stared wide-eyed but there was nothing but a sea of blackness. He shot up but he didn’t realize he was no longer restrained. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair and roared into the abyss.

**Author's Note:**

> Who's cutting onions? That's me, and better prepare yourself for a feast of onion soup, pickled onions, fried onion rings, onion pie (is that even possible?) and one raw fucking onion for dessert.
> 
> Anyways, have a nice day! 
> 
> *Also, the two people who found BBH are Tommy and Tubbo, but they're now 27 years-old. Do the math and figure out how long Bad has been stuck in there! :D


End file.
